


Thirteen

by tonkatsupls



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: AU in which Eph and Lyon were lovers, Biting, Character Death, Complete, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Lyon being Lyon, M/M, Some awkward teenage romance shit happens too, Some real sappy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16749829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonkatsupls/pseuds/tonkatsupls
Summary: Two crown heirs, both destined to rule their respective nation. Childhood friends, both bonded by a shared past. Lovers, both fully aware of the impossibility of their union. For a time, Ephraim and Lyon managed to keep these relationships held together, and even during the war they still managed to keep something afloat amidst the pain and deceit.But destiny can't be overwritten.





	Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> I was destroyed by an ask by my friend.  
> Based off of: https://tonkatsu-pls.tumblr.com/post/180480524120/71-54-ephraim-and-whoever-the-pair-of-the-day-is

It was Ephraim who confessed.

The wind rustled Lyon’s hair as he processed what had just occurred. The two boys were hidden under the courtyard trees, a secluded spot that Lyon liked to escape to, one Ephraim managed to discover in no time at all. They were lounging on a bench as they waited for Eirika to finish her afternoon lessons, Ephraim’s head lazily on Lyon’s thighs at the Renaisian’s insistence.

Lyon blinked at the youth on his lap. The words had rolled out of Ephraim’s tongue so easily that Lyon could hardly believe that the words had come out in the first place. “Wait… what?”

“You heard me.” Ephraim reached up to stroke Lyon’s face. “I love you.”

Lyon gulped, a warm flush trailing after wherever Ephraim’s fingers touched. “You’re insane.”

“Perhaps.” Ephraim shifted so that he was now sitting up, his other hand reaching over to cup Lyon’s cheeks. His eyes shone clearly in the sunlight, green orbs searching Lyon’s soul. “But I haven’t heard an answer yet.”

“I…” Lyon trailed off, gaze shifting off to the side. This had to be a dream. Ephraim couldn’t be in love with him—Ephraim was Ephraim, he _had_ to know people better than Lyon, like those Frelians he occasionally spoke of. Surely his confession was mere jest on his part? But this was nothing like Ephraim’s usual japes. Even now, after seeing the look in his eyes, after hearing the tone in his voice, Lyon felt as if Ephraim was serious, but _surely_ he did not mean his words, for Lyon was far too-

“Lyon.”

That single word snapped Lyon’s attention back. He met Ephraim’s gaze once more. This time, the prince’s expression was kind. “Lyon,” his name flowed out of Ephraim’s mouth like running water. “Don’t overthink it. Simply answer me this: do you love me, yes or no?”

Leave it to Ephraim to reduce such a complex emotion into a dichotomy. Were Lyon any calmer, he would chastise Ephraim on such simplistic thinking, and yet… Lyon took a deep breath and grabbed one of Ephraim’s hands, his heart a cacophony inside his chest.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Hesitant was not a word people used to describe Ephraim. In fact, people begged the prince to _think_ , to slow down, to step back and properly assess the situation. Yet Ephraim was no fool. His every move, his every word, though a snap decision, were simply what he thought was best in the moment. Though foolish would be an accurate way to describe him, part of Ephraim’s brilliance came from his decisiveness, from how easily he chose a course of action and stuck with it.

And so it came to no surprise to Lyon when he found himself suddenly cornered in a dark corner of the castle’s hallways.

“Let’s kiss.” Ephraim’s voice was firm as he pinned Lyon to a wall, one arm propped to the side of Lyon’s head. Though some would undoubtedly consider such a suggestion—an order, practically—an inability to create a proper mood, Lyon couldn’t help but feel a bit stunned. It was just _so_ like Ephraim to drop such a proposition on him from out of the blue. The thought had certainly crossed Lyon’s mind numerous times—how could it not? —but he was far too much of a coward to ever act on them. So to hear Ephraim take matters into his own hands was a relief in its own right, if not a somewhat infuriating one.

Therefore, Lyon could only nod his head numbly, could only wince as Ephraim lifted his chin so that their lips would meet. Teeth knocking, hands clumsy and awkward, two gangly boys pressed into each other in the dark, yet Lyon was breathless all the same. It was clear to him that Ephraim had no experience (not like he had any to boast of himself) but he carried himself so confidently that Lyon couldn’t help but drown in his presence, for really, who else but Ephraim could make a mess of things in such a terrific way?

“That was terrible,” Lyon murmured a couple of seconds after Ephraim pulled away, feeling unbearably hot.

“Shut up,” Ephraim grumbled before his eyes took on a mischievous glint. “We’ll just have to learn together, all right?”

That was probably one of the few things Ephraim willingly learned.

* * *

 

“Please, Ephraim, you must reconsider.” Lyon folded his arms, the plea evident in his voice. Ephraim shook his head.

“We don’t have to think about that right now,” he said with a wave of his hand. “My father’s not about to die anytime soon, and the same can be said for yours. We should be enjoying our youth, not worrying about our future.” He crinkled his nose. “Least of all our marriages.”

“Don’t you understand?” Lyon’s grip on his arms tightened. “We’re the _crown heirs_. It’s our destiny to one day take our fathers’ thrones. We can’t-” He lifted a hand to gesture vaguely towards the two of them. “You know we can’t ever be wed. You know it’s our duty to produce an heir for our kingdoms.”

Despite the truth in his words, Ephraim’s face grew hard, his brows furrowed in his trademark stubborn manner. “You forget that I have a sibling. Producing an heir could always be Eirika’s job.”

“You don’t mean that. You shouldn’t even be leaving all the work to her in the first place.” Judging by his scowl, Ephraim agreed with him, but was unwilling to voice his assent. “And be that as it may, you forget that _I_ cannot afford that same luxury.”

“We’ll make it work,” Ephraim insisted. “The last thing I want to rush is my own marriage. If I am to be wed at all, I’d rather it be to someone I love and not for some silly political obligation.”

“Ephraim, that’s not-”

One glare was all that it took for Lyon to shut his mouth. There was no arguing with Ephraim, especially when he was in one of these moods. They would only find themselves running circles until one of them exhausted, and that one wouldn’t be Ephraim.

* * *

 

The sight of Ephraim’s back wasn’t a new one to Lyon. He was used to being greeted by the sight of a back far broader than his. He was used to seeing the way Ephraim’s shoulder blades rolled as he discarded his tunic. He was used to seeing the muscle that Lyon could only dream of having. More than once, Lyon had wished to run his hands through his back, just to make sure that Ephraim’s body was even real.

“Like what you see?” Lyon scowled as he turned away, face red at Ephraim’s smirk. It was times like these when he wished Ephraim wasn’t so adamant about sneaking off to his room during the night.

“Just hurry up already, Father MacGregor would punish us if we’re late,” Lyon mumbled as he took off his own tunic. Even with his back turned towards him, he couldn’t help but feel Ephraim’s stare drill into him. “And will you stop staring at me so?”

“No.”

Lyon was sure he was on fire right now. Ephraim’s answer came all too readily, all too surely. It was simple: Ephraim was crazy. Just what was interesting about the sight of Lyon shirtless anyways? He was scrawny, lanky, weak… He was practically bones masquerading as a sack of flesh.

“There’s nothing to see.” His voice was unnecessarily harsh as he picked up a fresh change of clothes and began to change into them. “And you’re distracting me.”

“The one who’s distracting is you.” Despite the sourness of Lyon’s tone, Ephraim’s voice was still firm, still assured. “You’re beautiful.”

 _You’re lying_. Lyon bit his lip, suppressing the words that were all too prepared to come out in reply, words that would undeniably anger Ephraim. Ephraim never liked it when Lyon spoke lowly of himself, but he couldn’t help it. He simply could not compare to Ephraim.

More importantly, however, what expression was Ephraim making right now? Was his face as serious as it was when he confessed? Somehow, that thought scared Lyon more than his words.

* * *

 

Even with the curtains closed, the sun’s light blazed into the room.

Classes had been cancelled that day in the wake of Father MacGregor’s cold. Eirika was holed up in her room, busying herself with homework due soon and in the future. Her brother, on the other hand…

All too quickly, Ephraim’s shirt was off, and Lyon was soon face to face with Ephraim’s bare chest. His heart thumped as he shuffled his own shirt off his body. Though he had agreed to this arrangement, the fact that they were actually going through with it was more than Lyon could process, and Lyon had half a mind to just burrow into his bedsheets and hide.

Lyon of course had done his own research, but for once, Ephraim had been reading of his own volition. In fact, he was being far too brazen about his studies. Lyon had lost count of the number of times he had blanched upon seeing the books Ephraim was so openly reading in the library.

“What does it matter if you’re the one I’m having sex with?” Ephraim replied one day, bluntly at that. “Trust me, I only read them when I’m alone with you. Besides-” He put on a look of intense concentration, the one Lyon had only seen when Ephraim was practicing with his lance. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

And he didn’t. While they had not accounted for the circumstances of their teacher and Eirika, that had simply moved the time from night into broad daylight. Ephraim was an impatient man after all, although Lyon truly wasn’t any better in this instance. Still, even in their hormone-addled state, neither had any intention of winging this particular part of their relationship.

So Ephraim spent a considerable amount of time stretching him out, pausing ever so frequently to ask if Lyon was okay. Even prior to this, he had spent several days preparing Lyon, in the hopes that he would be as comfortable as he possibly could. Ephraim had even asked multiple times if Lyon was certain that he wanted to bottom when he certainly could, but Lyon insisted. While Lyon was fine with the alternative, he knew that actually doing so would be…

Lyon hissed as Ephraim began to push inside him. For once in his life, Ephraim hesitated.

“We don’t have to do this today.” For someone so strong, Ephraim’s voice was soft. Lyon felt his heart sink to his gut. Was he truly so weak that he couldn’t even do this?

“No, I…” He took in a deep breath and smiled, shaky as it was. “Don’t worry about me. I can take it.”

And he did, if only because Ephraim handled him as he would fine china. Though Lyon wouldn’t quite say that Ephraim had been gentle, he could tell that he had been holding back. Something in the way that he gripped his hips, not too hard but not breaking skin either. Something in the way that he had been trying (and failing) to control his thrusts. Something in the way that he wiped Lyon after, rather than leave him as the mess that he was.

* * *

 

“Eirika is gorgeous.”

Ephraim rolled over to his side to face him, one arm on the pillow. Rather than any semblance of jealousy, only mild curiosity was reflected in those emerald depths. “Do you like her?” He asked, straight to the point as always.

Lyon rested his hands on his chest and didn’t answer. How could he not fall for Eirika? Her voice, sweet as honey, never failed to soothe him. Her eyes, always so alight with emotion, never failed to captivate him. Her heart, so wide in its openness, never failed to include him in its embrace. Eirika was bewitching, and Lyon was drunk on her magic.

“It’s fine to like her, you know. I know my sister, and I know she’s quite fond of you.” Ephraim chuckled, his voice breaking through Lyon’s thoughts. “So long as Eirika feels the same for you, then I don’t mind.”

But that was where the problem lay, didn’t it? Lyon could hardly fathom a reality in which Eirika—kind, smart, strong Eirika—could ever return his love for her. He could hardly believe the reality where Ephraim did. Lyon could never confess to Eirika. He would have never confessed to Ephraim had the latter not done so first, and even then, Lyon could not help but wonder when the illusion would end.

* * *

 

Lyon glanced over Ephraim’s shoulder. Ephraim had hardly begun his math worksheet, but what little he had done seemed correct. A smile tugged at Lyon’s lips. It was still strange to him that Ephraim—powerful, confident, talented Ephraim—needed his assistance with anything.

Ephraim turned his head towards him. “Let’s take a break.”

Lyon raised a brow in amusement. “Ephraim, you’ve barely begun.”

“It’s too boring.” Lyon almost laughed at the pout etched in his face. “At least give me something to motivate me through the rest.”

“Like what exactly?”

“How about a kiss?” Lyon quickly scanned the area, wondering if anyone around had overheard.

“Ephraim, please, we don’t know who would walk in.”

He yelped when he felt Ephraim tug at the collar of his robes. “Come on, no one’s watching,” Ephraim persisted, mischief in his tone. “Plus, I want you to do it for once. It’s almost always me who initiates it.”

“Ephraim-”

“Please?”

Lyon let out a defeated sigh. Truly, there was no winning against Ephraim when the latter pleaded with him. Casting one last scan of the area, Lyon leaned down for a quick peck. “Happy?” He asked, blood rushing to his cheeks as he pulled away.

“Quite!” Ephraim flashed him a cheeky grin. “Really now, was that so hard?”

“You’re insufferable.” Lyon rolled his eyes before casting his gaze downwards. “We really shouldn’t do stuff like that out in the open like this. I… I know we haven’t been caught yet, but it’s only a matter of time until we are.”

“Then let them catch us for all I care.” Ephraim’s voice didn’t falter in its defiance. Lyon sighed once again. He knew all too well that Ephraim was not the kind of man who hid. Though he surely had his own secrets, Ephraim did not take pleasure in keeping them. He wanted everything out in the open, exposed for all to see. Lyon could only imagine the number of times it had crossed Ephraim’s mind to scream their relationship out to the heavens; quite frankly, he was surprised Ephraim hadn’t done so already. Not even Eirika, the true half of his heart, knew the truth of their bond.  

So surely this relationship was searing him from the inside. Surely Ephraim felt shackled, not only by the duty bestowed upon him by birth, but by Lyon’s fragility as well. While Ephraim could shoulder the fallout of such a revelation, the same could not be said for Lyon.

Thus, hidden would their love remain, if one could even call it that, snatched in little moments like these, moments that built up and up and had nowhere else to go.

* * *

 

Lyon tied the knot, his hands shaking slightly as he let go. “Are you all right?” He asked, casting a glance at the young man beside him. Ephraim nodded, inclining his head slightly towards the sound of Lyon’s voice. Lyon gulped and then carefully stood up, taking care not to lose his balance on the soft sheets beneath him, to admire his handiwork.

Lyon bit his lip. Looking down on Ephraim was exciting enough, but the fact that he had the proud prince of Renais subdued in his bedchambers positively thrilled him. There Ephraim was, his hands tied to either side bedpost with the fabric they had bought earlier that day, his vision limited by the black cloth wrapped around his eyes. Lyon could hardly believe that Ephraim had agreed to such an outrageous request, considering what it was. It was quite obvious too, that Ephraim did not particularly enjoy being subject to such restraint. Lyon could see it in the way his body tensed, the way he tried and failed to mask his attempts to release himself from his bonds. It was pathetic, but Lyon enjoyed watching him squirm beneath him, though he could not help but wonder how he had even gotten into this position in the first place. Perhaps it was a testament of his love towards him, of the misplaced trust Ephraim had towards Lyon, that allowed him to agree to stoop so low before him.

Still, though Lyon had Ephraim at his mercy, he could not help but hesitate once more to ask if this was okay, if anything was too tight, if Ephraim was sure that he-

“Lyon.” Again, his name on his lips was enough to halt the stream of his thoughts. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I assure you, I can handle whatever you do to me.”

Compared to when Lyon said it, Ephraim’s version was far more comforting. Unlike Lyon, Ephraim could back up his words, for Ephraim didn’t break. Ephraim never broke. Though Lyon could reduce him to a shivering mess here, by the time dawn rolled around, he would surely rise again ablaze.

And so it was with that reassurance that Lyon guided his length down to Ephraim’s mouth, pushing his head against Ephraim’s lips until they parted. Lyon moaned as the blood rushed into his groin, overwhelmed by the moist warmth that enveloped his cock. He closed his eyes, a free hand making its way to entangle his fingers in Ephraim’s thick locks, as his mind lost itself to pleasure.

Were he a stronger man, he would have enough composure to ensure that Ephraim could even _breathe_ , could even do more than try not to gag as Lyon couldn’t help but roll his hips forward and back. But he’s not, he’s only Lyon, a poor pathetic fool who couldn’t help but savor this moment, savor the one chance he had to finally, _finally_ , overpower Ephraim, to be the one in control, to be the one that was superior. Even if it was only through a situation of his making, even if only in this artificial circumstance, Lyon couldn’t help but _relish_ how it was Ephraim taking him in, how it was Ephraim struggling to match his pace.

It did not take long until Lyon reached his climax. Though his mind blanked, he at least had the good sense to pull out before releasing, a wet _plop_ before he spilled out in front of him. When he opened his eyes again, his grip on Ephraim’s hair slackened as his gaze trailed over where his seed marked Ephraim’s face, from his hair to his blindfold, to his nose, to where it mixed with the drool that dripped off his mouth…

Lyon swallowed. It was a good thing Ephraim was blindfolded, for he would not know how to deal with the shame of growing again so soon.

* * *

 

Lyon watched as the carriages took the twins away, arm still outstretched in a wave goodbye. Ephraim promised he would write, but Lyon knew that their respective responsibilities would keep them far too busy for any real correspondence. Despite that, he was sure that this was not the last time he would see either of the Renais royalty; although admittedly, something felt off about this parting. There was a sense of foreboding that came with their farewells, although as to what, Lyon couldn’t tell.

Still, his mind couldn’t help but linger on the words Ephraim had left him with last night. Could Ephraim keep that promise? Could they really keep cordial relations even if their kingdoms were at war? He had agreed with Ephraim then, but his doubts remained. Lyon knew better, he knew his father’s teachings. There would come a day when Renais and Grado would find themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield. There would come a day when Ephraim would have to choose between the bond he shared with Lyon and the home where his future lay. What choice would Ephraim make then?

Lyon knew his.

* * *

 

Once more, Lyon was faced with the sight of Ephraim subdued before him, only this time, it was on a bed made of rock. Heat curled up through the lava surrounding them as Lyon stared down at the man chained down before him.

Ephraim had always been so simple. He undoubtedly fully believed that it was the Demon King he had been chasing, that “Lyon” had been lost to him this whole time. Ah, but Ephraim truly was a fool. Lyon, after all, was not so weak to fall prey to such a demonic parasite. He was the master of his own destiny, the master of Grado’s future. And he too, could be the master of the tempest trapped at his feet.

And oh, how the tempest raged. It was a treat watching Ephraim writhe in his chains in all his futile attempts to break free. Chills ran up his spine as Ephraim screamed himself hoarse, his eyes a clear mirror to the inferno of his rage. For all his strength, Ephraim was at his mercy, rendered immobile, rendered powerless right here, right now.

And yet…

The words left Lyon’s lips before he could even think about them. What was the point of telling him of Darkling Woods? Perhaps it was the same lapse in judgment that caused him to leave Grado’s Sacred Twins behind.

Or perhaps Lyon simply sought his own destruction at the hands of the sunlit flame.

* * *

 

The moon was full and bright.

Lyon’s footsteps were soundless as he walked through the forest floor. He had no clue where he was going, yet for once his path was certain. It did not take long for him to reach his destination.

Lyon pushed through the flap of the tent. Lying on the ground was the familiar form of Ephraim, his body tense yet his eyes still closed. Lyon half expected Eirika to be sleeping right next to him, but perhaps as general, it would be more proper if he had a tent of his own. Still, Lyon couldn’t help but stare at the defenseless body beneath him.

It would be so quick, so easy. Lyon had the means. He had the power. He need only outstretch his hand…

Yet Lyon made no move as Ephraim stirred. He said nothing as the prince turned his face towards the tent entrance, did not even twitch when the latter grabbed the lance at his side.

“You-!” Devoid of kindness, there was only fury. As was fitting. As was deserved. But, that was for another time. For now, Lyon merely shook his head. 

“Peace, Ephraim, I’ve come only to talk. Besides-” Lyon tilted his head back. “You’ll wake the others if you make so much noise, and I would hate for you to lose so much of your army so soon.”

“Who are you?” Lyon had to suppress a laugh at such a childish question, for he didn’t want to waste any of the time he had left. He blinked at Ephraim.

“You know…” Lyon’s voice was low enough that it threatened to be lost in the night breeze. “I never lied to you when I said I loved you. Truly, I meant it.”

“Yet you hated me all the same.” Lyon winced at the hurt in Ephraim’s tone, but he simply nodded in response. He watched Ephraim sit up. “Lyon.” His eyes bore into his, calm, collected, though a fire burned in them all the same. “Answer me this: do you love me, yes or no?”

One strike.

One strike was all that it would take.

But Lyon said nothing as he knelt down. He said nothing as he inched his way forward, said nothing until his nose was practically touching Ephraim’s. He averted his gaze, unwilling to see the expression on his face. How was Ephraim looking at him now? Was there disgust? Anger? Hate?

He was unprepared for the hand that cupped his face, for the gentle nudging that forced his eyes to meet Ephraim’s once more. Twin flames pierced him as Ephraim opened his mouth.

“I trust you.”

Lyon could not speak as soundless sobs wracked his body, could not move when Ephraim leaned forward and gently kissed the corner of his eyelids, could not react as Ephraim continued to caress his face as he pushed him down.

* * *

 

At last, Lyon could stand as Ephraim’s equal. At last, Lyon did not cower at the sight of Ephraim raising his weapon against him. At last, Lyon had a strength of his own.

Lyon opened Naglfar in his hands and began his chant. The runes on the pages glowed as magic coursed through his fingers. All over his body, Lyon felt the sting of last night’s marks as he raised his arms.

Back in their youth, they had been careful not to leave any marks or scars lest anyone questioned their origin. During the times that they did, it was always in places that could be easily hidden by their clothes. Lyon quite enjoyed these brands. He adored the secret signs of ownership shared between them.

So it was only fitting when Ephraim made one more, right through his heart.

* * *

 

Light filtered through the courtyard, spotting the shrubbery with gold. Ephraim looked around, wondering where in this den of a garden was this so-called son of the emperor.

“Brother, look!”

Ephraim turned toward the direction of Eirika’s finger. Soon, the twins approached the lone figure in a small clearing. Ephraim stayed silent as the individual—Lyon—stammered through his introduction. Did he really not have friends his own age? Ephraim wasn’t any better, but at least he had Eirika with him. He couldn’t imagine a world where he was alone. It would have driven him mad.

Though Lyon seemed to shrink within himself, Ephraim couldn’t help but be intrigued by the boy in front of him. He had heard from his father that Lyon was a clever youth, and he wondered just how far his intelligence extended (certainly farther than Ephraim’s, that much he could sense already). Furthermore, Lyon was slim, slimmer than any male he had ever encountered, despite the bulky robes that hugged his figure. Most stunningly though was his hair, a vibrant hue of purple that colored each strand. In the sunlight, Lyon seemed to glow.

Ephraim extended a hand. More than friends, he had a feeling that he would get along with Lyon splendidly. And when his hand gripped his, he had a feeling that he never wanted to let go.

 


End file.
